The Mishap on the 14th Floor
by Geekery15
Summary: While on vacation Tony is kidnapped by a sophisticated group of criminals. Without his badge and gun, he must play a major part in their plans to steal a diamond in order to not be framed for the murder of an FBI Agent and several other persons.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: The Mishap on the 14th Floor  
><strong>**Author: Geekery15  
><strong>**Rating: PG:13  
><strong>**Summary: Tony is suspected of murder.  
><strong>**Spoilers: Possibly  
><strong>**Feedback: I would be delighted.  
><strong>**Beta: I lack a beta so I apologize in advance for any typos/mistakes.  
><strong>**Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of NCIS. Every other character belongs to me unless noted otherwise.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 1<strong>

The hotel lounge sparkles with its pristine floors and its expensive lighting. The mix-match of black leather and white leather couches fits together famously as the elegant dinner jackets of the men accompanying the space do their parts in decorating.

The air is crisp and clean, yet a tad-bit smoky, and dirty, from the minds of the all sophisticated people swarming around each other with their drinks and their cigarettes, and their lust-filled minds.

It never rains on a night like this. Where the rich and the famous dance about in their own world, surrounded by their own kind so they are to find nothing, but comfort and knowledge in the people they repeatedly take by the elbows or guide through the doors.

Women. Of course there be women. Women with all sorts of elegance and grace. Women with all sorts of jewels and designer dresses. Yet women, who more or less fit into one sort of demographic even in such a modern time.

The year is 2012 and the world continues to turn as it did in its years before. Human nature continues to stagger blindly, at times, into whatever direction they have been traveling for quite sometime. The men continue to court, the woman continue to bait, and in the mix of it all, each side takes their turn in turning the tables; trying to make the moment more modern than the moment before.

Of course there still be those of an old-fashioned nature. Those who find themselves being perhaps from another time or older, or both. Those who have a set image on what beauty is and will stop at nothing until they find what they have always been looking for; making that person their own and never for a moment forgetting all the fun they had in completing their task.

"Hi, I'd like a glass of bourbon, please. Thanks."

The aging young man who could not look a day over thirty-five rubs the backs of his fingers along his clean-shaved face as he perches himself on-top of the bar stool. His well sculpted face stands brighter than usual, almost as if one of the lights from above found its calling. Him; in which he under a spotlight.

His dark eyebrows are in-tune with his well-groomed hair. Tonight it is more than just a short cut with straight strands sticking out in every which way. Tonight his hair is a sculpted masterpiece himself, almost as if he earlier he tried his best to embody James Bond while getting ready for this dinner party.

"Here you are, Sir."

He nods his thank-you to the man tending the bar because it feels more suave to him rather than speaking, but also knows he gave the man a verbal thank you before he was even given what he ordered.

'The two-thank-you' deal is what he liked to refer to it as. Not because he had heard it before and found it charming, but because he had a wild and vibrant imagination that forced him to be creative and he wanted to put a whole new angle on what it meant to be charming. Something of his very own that could be passed on to those who admired him, because throughout the entire capacity of his ego, there definitely was room for him to think and to commit to any idea that anyone, on any given day, would find him admirable.

Bringing the glass to his lips he wets his top lip, but purposely refuses to take a real taste. With the dark liquid melting into his top lip, the tip of his tongue stays inside of his mouth so that he probably smells the liquor more than he can taste it. Of course that is just the way it should be. A drink that is found in his bosses basement and poured into an old mason jar just upgraded itself to a glass of sophistication; quite literally.

A drink is made to be held. The longer it lasts the more stamina it shows a man has. The control to hold back on his own wants and desires. It is the image of perfection for any dazzling woman that is looking for a man who can take her fantasies to new heights without even touching her.

He knew the game because he played the game, and even more so, he watched the game. From the days to-which it began straight through to this very moment.

It is the married man looming over a woman who is not his wife in the far corner. It is the older man, the very-married man who is eyeing up a much younger woman in hopes she will not just give him one night, but she'll give herself to him every night. Every corner has a story, and as he takes his handsome strides with his glass of bourbon, he grins at the possibilities of their ends.

When his cell phone rings, it nearly snaps him back to complete reality. He isn't very much James Bond anymore, but Anthony DiNozzo instead.

"Tony." He says clearly into his phone.

"I know you're not waiting for an introduction from me, DiNozzo."

"Hey Boss." All traces of his suave alter-ego gone. "What's going on in…the squad-room…basement…bar?"

"Nothin'."

"Alrighty…then…" He clears his throat, then decides he better at least take one real slip of bourbon before he ends up looking like an idiot walking around with a drink he's not going to drink. "How's the family?" He makes a face. "You know, the team…"

"Good."

"That's nice."

"Where are you?"

"…on vacation…" He knits his eyebrows. "You do remember, don't you boss? You signed the papers before the Director did."

"I remember."

Tony's confused look turns into one of worry. "Is everything okay?"

"Fine."

He sighs, putting the glass down on a shelf that is designed into one of the walls. "I seem to be missing something."

"Yeah, the better half of your brain." Gibbs barks at him. "How many times have I told you to leave McGee alone?"

The confused look forms again on his face. "Never. Not even once."

Gibbs wait's a moment. "Right, but that doesn't mean when I tell you to do something, I mean him."

"What'd I forget to do?" He rakes his brain.

"Your report, on the serial killer case. It had some errors, I wanted it fix." He skips a beat. "I needed it fixed."

"Since when do my errors concern you?" He pauses as if he can feel the heat from the steam that most likely is coming through Gibbs ears. "Uh, just kidding boss."

"You've got it coming to you, DiNozzo." Gibbs assures him. "You report to me the minute you step foot back in D.C."

Tony swallows. "Yes, boss."

Hearing the dead end on his cell phone, he sighs a little while putting his phone back into his pants pocket.

"Lets hope I hit the jackpot and I won't have go back D.C." He says under his breath.

As he reaches for his glass, a shrieking noise pierces the air causing his eyebrows to lower into a stern look.

The lounge grows louder as the masses of classy men and women begin to run frantically about; desperate to flee the hotel.

The fire alarm continues on…


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

The front lobby is jam-pack with frantic, and idiotic people. Tony notices several women hollering about their things that are left in their hotel rooms as their husbands, boyfriends, or men of the hour desperately try to talk some sense into them while trying to drag them out of the nearest exit.

The doors to the hotel stairs are incapable of closing as hundreds of guests fly through them. Some even trip and fall, but are caught by the backs of those traveling in front of them. A hotel employee is shouting; begging everyone to remain as calm as possible so no one will be harmed, but it only heightens their panic.

Tony finally reaches the front desk after several struggles he met while going against the crowd.

"I'm a Federal Agent, what's going on?"

"FIRE! FIRE! FIRE!" One of the men behind the desks screams in his face as he took looks as if he wants to magically divide the crowd and make a bee-line for the hotel entry doors.

Tony leans forward and tries to get the attention of another man working the counter; handling the telephone as best as possible. "Excuse me!" The man looks at Tony, but he does not answer him. "I'm a Federal Agent. Is there anything I can do to calm these people?"

"You're the Federal Agent. You tell me." The man shoots back bitterly, then turns around and continues to listen to his caller.

With a strong push, Tony finds himself being shoved aside as a sobbing and hysterical woman chokes out a plea to the workers behind the desk. Overhearing her story, he stands tall and leans over. "What floor?"

"Fourteen!" She says loudly, but a little calmer. "Room 14-46, my daughter is up there!"

Assuring her with a look, he pushing himself along the trail of the front desk and rounds it. Grabbing the shoulder of the first employee he sees, he opens his mouth. "I need to know where the back stairs are."

Realizing the question, the man's eyebrows higher in surprise. "Have you lost your mind? Why bother going up there? Everyone's nearly out of the building and if they aren't, they're on their way out." He motions towards the stairs.

"WHERE ARE THE BACK STAIRS?" His frustration for a few employees finally getting the best of him.

"Down the hall and through the kitchen, but-"

Letting go of the man's shoulder, he runs down a surprisingly empty hallway and does his best to remember which door he spotted several members of the kitchen staff coming in and out of in the last couple of days. Inconveniently it is an unmarked door; one he figures the staff uses because it is convenient to them, though not suggested by their employers.

A door flies open right before he is able to pass by it and the person flying through it nearly knocks him to the ground. Holding his breath he turns his head and watches as the woman in an apron takes off in the direction he just came, at top speed.

Turning his attention to what's inside the partially opened door, he notices ovens and several other cooking stations. Storming through it at top speed he does his best to see if anyone is in need of any assistance while he continues through his travel.

One half of his brain keeps reminding himself that by traveling further into the hotel and in conclusion, higher into the hotel, he is risking his life. The other half of his mind scolds himself for leaving his weapon and badge locked in a travel safe he took along with him.

Pushing through a swing door, he notches a mop and a bucket in the corner, and another door marked 'stairs'. Thinking to himself on how oddly designed the hotel is, he opens the door and begins climbing the stairs.

Now on the 14th floor, the shrieking alarm has gone beyond rattling his brain and is nearing to making his ears bleed. With more sweat beads forming rapidly on his brow, he makes the mistake of trying to reach for his gun in a hostler he knows he is not wearing.

Scolding himself, he wipes his brow with the back of his hand as he can literally feel the heat around the corner. Still he does not see any smoke nor flames.

Spotting a figure extinguisher a few hotel room doors away, he rips the door open and grabs for it. The small axe from within comes forward and he puts his hand out to catch it in expectancy.

His tiny hopes that the fire would continue to blaze, yet go unseen for just a few more minutes are crushed as he notices the thick cloud of dark smoke that is moving along the ceiling.

Quickly, he begins to jog past each door again; looking at their numbers and praying that the one he is looking for will just show itself.

Clearing his throat from a tightness he is sure is coming more form the knowledge of the smoke that is he is approaching more than from inhaling the pollution in the air, he finally falls upon the correct door and bangs loudly on it.

"OPEN UP! FEDERAL AGENT!"

A few second pass and there is no answer. Banging rapidly and loudly on the door, he wait's a few more seconds. Putting the extinguisher down on the floor next to him, he readies himself to use the axe when he hears a cry for help. Jerking his head to the direction of the sound, he notices it is coming from the direction of the smoke. Quickly opening the buttons on his dress shirt, he then grabs the fire extinguisher and nestles it against his bare skin. The coolness from its steel container actually feels nice against his hot and sweaty skin. Hurriedly, he buttons his shirt and drops on to his hands and knees. Grabbing the axe he holds part of the handle and part of the blade inside his right palm, then proceeds to race towards the end of the hallway.

The cry he heard before has now turned into a scream, and the smoke above him seems to have gained itself another level causing the space between it and the floor to lessen.

After what seems like an eternity he founds himself at the end of the hallway and in front of a door that is wide open; inside he sees a series of reds, yellows, and whites as the flames blaze out of control. Without letting another minure go by he grabs for the small and frightened child by reaching for her leg and dragging her across the floor until she is safely in his embrace.

Without time for introductions or any exchange of words, he turns around while on his hands and knees; the girl safely protected from his body, and begins in the direction he cam. Realizing that she could do something for herself now that some of her fear as gone away, the young girl begins to crawl on her hands and knees so quickly Tony has to find even more of his strength to keep up with her.

Finally, when they are out of the overbearing heat of the fire and a decent distance away from the smoke, he gets off the ground, then reaches for her. Picking her up, he notices that she could not be any older than six or seven years ago.

Shaking his head slightly while looking at her, he thinks about her mother and what she could have been thinking when she thought to leave her alone in a hotel room.

After several moments he realizes that he needs to get them out of there in the next minute, but the girl screams loudly as she looks past his shoulders.

Turning around, he covers her head with his arm in case of any incoming danger, but soon sighs a sigh of relief when he notices it is only a fireman.

"Fire's back there, but we've got to get her out of here!"

The fireman continues to approach them; slowly.

Opening his mouth to say something, Tony decides to take a much needed breath inside. Turning around he notices that whatever is happening back there is better handled from the outside rather than the inside.

"Listen…" He says as he turns his attention back to the fireman. "I say we all get the hell out of here!"

Extending his arm and reaching inside his coat, the fireman pulls out a gun.

Tony's eyes open wider as he notices what is happening.

With the fire helmet still on his head, he stares Tony in the face and aims his firearm.

"LET HER GO!" He yells.

Tony knits his eyebrows; now unsure of what is happening.

"I'M A FEDERAL AGENT!" He yells back in hopes that will ease some of the growing tension between them.

"LET HER GO!" He yells again.

Turning his head to look behind him, he realizes that if he does not do what he is told not only will he not have a chance at survival, but neither will the young girl.

Putting her down the floor, he waits for her to steady her legs. Letting her go, he watches as she runs over to the fireman and waits. In seconds, he roughly grabs a hold of her and holds her in his arm. He then fires his gun.

Tony throws himself to the ground and misses, causing his shooter to grow angrier and the girls screams to grow louder.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?" Tony wonders out loud as he scrambles around on the floor trying to keep himself moving and out of the line of fire. "I AM A FEDERAL AGENT!"

The man repeatedly begins to fire until he empties an entire clip. Grunting, he nearly drops the girl on he floor.

"RUN THE OTHER WAY!" He yells at her and watches as she takes off running.

As the fireman struggles to put a new clip inside his gun, Tony crawls towards the flames again, this time inhaling smoke that chokes him. Holding his breath as best as he can, he sputters for air as he grabs a hold of the fire axe that lay in the spot where he grabbed the girl.

Slipping from the blur of his watering eyes and his heavy chest, he finds strength from the unknown and pushes on until he is able to take a decent breath of fresh air.

As his vision becomes slightly better, he feels the nearness of something threatening.

"Off the floor." The fireman says while towing over him; the mouth of the gun aimed at his head. "Now." Stepping on the blade of the axe, the man brings the gun closer. "Leave it."

With his only hope of protection gone, he rises slowly from the floor.

"I am a Federal Agent." He says once more.

"I heard you the first time." The man growls. "I'm taking you out of here."

"What about the girl?"

"She's already safe."

With his hands at his side, he wonders what this is all about.

"Do I know you?" Tony asks.

"Ain't nothing about me worth knowing."

The confusion begins to grow on his face, but he does not dare to make a move.

"Step out and go around me, and no funny business because I will shoot you in places that'll make you scream and bleed long before I finish you." He skips a beat. "…and hands up where I can see them."

Raising his arms slowly, Tony does exactly what he is told.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Tony stands on the balcony of one of the hotel rooms and waits for instructions from the man that more or less wants him dead. While the man makes signals below, Tony rakes his brain back and forth, double checking on hidden memories and previous nightmares in hopes he can find something that will both satisfy any pending questions his new friend might have for him, and most importantly, get him back to D.C alive.

The visual from the left pushes his nerves even closer to the edge as he watches a piece of the hotel crumble and fall; engulfed in flames. With another quick hand signal comes a fire ladder and soon the idea to throw the man over the railing of the balcony shines brightly in Tony's head, but the man quickly discovers what he is thinking.

"I said no funny business." He snarls.

Taking a glance below, Tony notices a news crew emerge from their news van. Turning back to the main with a gun aimed at him, he chooses not to say anything.

"You first."

With a slight nod and a usual about of hesitation, Tony begins to climb down the fire ladder all the while thinking how his arrival at the bottom could either better his situation or worsen it.

Setting a steady, but quick pace for himself, in a matter of a minute he is already halfway down the fire ladder. With a few glances to his left and right, he begins to count how many firemen he sees as well as how many news reporters there are.

Above him he can see the man tuck his gun inside his pocket and put his leg over the balcony.

Just as he reaches the bottom, he expects to feel a swarm of people wanting to check on him, but instead finds himself with another armed fireman waiting for him. Sighing to himself though he knows it can be heard by this new person in this particular moment of his life, he straightens his back a little and takes a breath.

"What's this about?" His tone serious, yet strained.

The man before him only grips the gun tighter and doesn't say a word. A noise from a part of the truck alerts them both that the man from above has now reached the bottom.

"Damn it, I asked you a question!" Tony's voice is raw and tired from both the smoke and the heat he took in from inside the building.

The man looks away from him to stare at the man who is now pointing his gun at Tony for the third time.

Feeling the tension in his neck and shoulders, he stands there defenseless.

"How can I give you what you want when I don't know what the hell is going on?" He questions with such bitterness it burns his throat. "DAMN IT, ANSWER ME!"

A muffled pound can be heard as Tony takes a fist straight to the right side of his back. Stiffening with pain, he tries to ride it out without bending over too much in fear in doing so it might make either man think he was trying to catch either one of them from below the belt. The last thing he needs is for either man to think such a thing when he hasn't regained his full strength yet.

Taking as much of a deep breath as he can, he growls low in his chest as the second man comes closer to him and stares him in the face.

"If either of you touch me again I'll make sure you both get on the headline news tonight." He threatens as a drop of sweat falls into his eyes.

The man forms a sickening grin. With a slight toss of his head, the man behind him removes his aim on Tony and begins to open fire on the approaching news crew members. Jerking around to the sounds of several shots being fired, Tony watches as people fall to their death right in front of him; their cameras and microphones going down right along with them. With his eyes wide and an episode of pure shock beginning to settle inside of him, he hardly hears the sounds of approaching police cars or feels the rough hands of the men who throw him inside the back of what most likely is an unmarked van.

* * *

><p>The inside of a home library is the last place Tony feels he should be as he is free to roam around and touch any one of the millions of books if he so much desires.<p>

Looking down on himself he assures himself that he is indeed half-dressed as he remembers his tuxedo pants were stripped from him when he decided to talk back inside of willingly handing his cellular phone over. A decision he figured to be wise and respectable at the time, but one that leaves him feeling more insecure than he would ever willingly let on to anyone.

A sound is heard as a different man opens the door to the library. He is dressed in a designer suit that has all the fixtures a suit like that would naturally have. He looks business, but smells criminal, and it only heightens Tony's worry and confusion with every passing moment.

"Please, sit down." The man says politely while using his hand to motion towards an expensive chair.

Bewilderment paints Tony face in an unfamiliar shade and he stands still instead of taking the offer. Shrugging a little to himself and with a laugh, the man takes his offered chair instead and happily acknowledges the familiar two men from earlier as they enter through the door; letting it close behind them.

"I take it you've met my-"

"What's this about?" Tony interrupts him with both anger and tiredness in his voice.

"Business, Mr. DiNozzo…just business." Reaching into his pocket, the man pulls out a steel cigarette case. "Care for a cigarette?"

Waiting a moment, Tony then shakes his head slightly. "What kind of business? What's this about?"

"Which one would you like me to answer first?"

"You already answered the second."

"Then why bother asking it again, Mr. DiNozzo?"

With his face still bloody and sweaty, his ears begin to turn a slight shade of pink as he feels his blood pressure rising. "What kind of business are you conducting? How do you know my name?" He bites back on a roar that wants to break free.

Shaking the match he struck to lit his cigarette, the man places it inside of an ashtray that sits on the table next to the chair he is sitting in. "I understand that it must be hard for you to hold back and have someone else ask you the questions, being the investigator that you are, but you're on my time now, Mr. DiNozzo, and I will not stand for letting someone question me." He takes a drag from his cigarette. "I offered you to sit down and you refused. Now I am ordering you to sit down." With a snap of his fingers, his two men are on either side of Tony in seconds and forcing him into a nearby chair in a few more seconds. Sitting there, Tony pants as he stops himself from fighting against his human constraints. "Comfortable?"

"I AM A FEDERAL AGENT!" He barks wildly and again tries to get himself free from two pairs of hands.

"After doing what you did I'm not so sure that title fits you properly."

"I HAVEN'T DONE ANYTHING!"

Smiling at the stressed man in front of him, he crosses his legs while knocking a few of his cigarette ashes into the ashtray. "Do you know what makes an innocent man?"

Pondering his question, Tony just sits there.

"No answer?" He shrugs. "Well, I'll tell you." Touching his tongue with his index finger and his thumb as if a piece of dust ended up flying in there while smoking, he grins as he notices Tony's eyes are watching his every move. "Nothing." He shrugs again. "Nothing makes an innocent man-an innocent person, because we all have done something that is considered wrong." Taking a drag, he exhales slowly the smoke practically seeps out of his mouth in one, long, puffy cloud. "We're all guilty of something."

Tony stares at him.

"Even those such as yourself…" He points to him; his cigarette streaming a thin line of smoke as it sits there between his fingers. "Every Federal Agent in the land has done something he or she isn't proud of. So you see…" He inhales. "Claiming you haven't done anything is nothing, but a lie."

Shaking his head with an uneasy chuckle, Tony tries to disappear from what is happening around him.

Getting out of his chair, the man stands directly in front of Tony. His frame looms slightly, but he still keeps his back straight as he slips one of his hands inside one of his expensive pockets. "You are very much here, Mr. DiNozzo. This _is_ happening." He smiles brilliantly at him. "So I suggest you stop wishing yourself away and start paying attention to me."

With a slight nod of his head, his two men back off and leave Tony free to move his arms, but this time he just sits there motionless. Taking their guns from inside their dress jackets, they both relocate to another area of the room, but leave their guns pointed, in some way, in Tony's direction.

"Now then…" The man begins again while he perches himself on the corner of another end table. "What I want from you is quite simple, Mr. DiNozzo. What I want will surely make you uncomfortable with yourself, but I figure it will eventually suit you well when you realize that by doing what I ask you'll have a much longer life."

"Who made you God?"

"This isn't about God. This is about ability…" He fiddles with his cigarette. "I've got the ability to make people…everyday people, unordinary people…extraordinary people; law enforcement officers…" He smiles smugly, "…do exactly what it is that I want." He shrugs. "Perhaps I was born with it. Perhaps I picked it up along the way. Whatever the case may be, the only ones that have failed are the ones that are dead." Shaking his head slowly, he looks Tony dead in the eyes. "…you wouldn't want to end up a failure, would you Mr. DiNozzo?"

Bringing his hand up to his forehead, he pinches his skin and tries to soothe the nagging throb that started sometime ago. A few more moments pass and the room is still silent. Finally, the man begins to speak again.

"Are you familiar with the Wittelsbach-Graff Diamond?"

"Sorry, I haven't had a chance to visit Tiffany's since arriving."

Grinning at the younger man's sarcasm, he pulls out folded piece of paper and opens it before dropping it on the coffee table in front of Tony. Hearing the paper fall, Tony removes his hand from his forehead and uses it to pick up the piece of paper.

"It is beautiful, isn't it?" The man's eyes dance with power and excitement.

"You want me to wear this?" Tony wonders. "Is this what is going to make me feel uncomfortable?"

"You are quite the comedian, Mr. DiNozzo."

"We all have our quirks." He flings the paper so it falls on the opposite side of the coffee table. "Hundreds of people didn't nearly die in a fire, nor did an entire news crew get gunned down in the public eye, nor did I get kidnapped because of some diamond that's probably the latest fashion in women's jewelry!" He slams his fist down on top of the coffee table and he stands to his feet." Now you listen to me-you tell me what this is about and you tell me right now."

The two men stand to their feet and steady to grip. The man gives them a look to put them at ease.

"I want it." He says loud and clearly. "… and you're going to bring it to me."

His eyebrows knit. "I've been kidnapped so I can play Indiana Jones?" He laughs. "You've got yourself the wrong man for the job."

"You owe me, Mr. DiNozzo." He puts his hand on his shoulder and holds it tenderly as Tony's confusion deepens even more. "Think back to a time when you were an average officer of the law instead of some laughable NCIS Agent." His hand grips his shoulder a little as Tony's face twists into anger at the comment about his profession. "You didn't like it when your partner played dirty so you quit."

"That's got nothing-"

"Oh, but it does…" His grip becomes tighter. "…you see Mr. DiNozzo, my dear old mother gave birth to not only one son, but two. One grew up first, that's me, and decided that the other side of the fence was the only place I could show my true colors and really shine for all the world to see…" He looks around his glorious library for a moment. "…and the other grew up second, doing his best to play on both sides of the fence in hopes that he could live his life as peacefully as possibly by being both good and evil." His grip is so tight now that Tony can start to feel the pressure pounding against the areas that will probably leave marks. "Much like you, my baby brother took pride in his profession, in his position, in his title-but he never once made such a bold statement as you did earlier. He never once stated he wasn't at a fault for anything."

Gritting his teeth, Tony grabs a hold of the man's hand and tries his best to pull it from his shoulder.

"I'm not through yet, Mr. DiNozzo." His grip grows stronger and Tony feels his toes begin to curl.

"My partner didn't have a brother." Tony says through gritted teeth.

"Your partner was only an example." He says easily. "It is my brother who I want to put to rest-properly."

Tony wants to scream from the pain and the intake of information, but he instead he falls into the chair he was previously sitting on, and prays that the man lets go of his shoulder so he can find some sort of relief.

"Who is he?" Tony whispers harshly. "What's your brother's name-what's your name?"

The man smiles. "I've told you I won't stand for any questions."

"How am I supposed to understand-"

"You aren't, supposed to understand." The man growls slightly. "You only supposed to do."

"I'm not doing a damn thing until I find out what this is all about." He looks at the picture of the diamond again. "Wherever that diamond is, it's protected by such powerful forces you and your men wouldn't even stand a chance." He looks darkly at the two men he wants to tear to pieces. "Trust me."

"I suggest you trust me, and with your life, Mr. DiNozzo." The man lets go of shoulder finally, in order to take another cigarette from inside his cigarette case. "You see, it will be awfully hard for you explain how the body of a dead FBI Agent managed to be found in your hotel room." He hit's the end of the cigarette against the case so it can inch up his fingers. "…not to mention the bullets from your gun that can be found nestled inside of him." He finally places the cigarettes in his mouth. "…or the bullets that killed that news crew…"

Tony sits there with wild eyes as he listens.

"…so you see Mr. DiNozzo, you need me perhaps more than I need you…" He strikes a match and lights his cigarette. "…the only choice you really have is to leave town…use your time away to find me my diamond and bring it back. It's really that simple."

"This is blackmail."

"I like to think of it as payback." He pauses. "Payback for making the decision to stop both sides of my brother's life by killing him."

"I NEVER KILLED ANOTHER COP!"

"NO!" The man's anger is finally released. "You only ratted my brother out and ruined one of his deals so that the person he was going to supply had no choice, but to kill him. You made that happen. You killed my baby brother!"

Tony's mind is racing. He tries to pin-point the dirty cop in question, but after the events that took place earlier and the events that are taking place now, he can not figure it out.

"What's this diamond have to do with your brother?" He asks.

"There isn't one reason I can find to answer that."

"I can't just disappear and do what you want!" Tony growls. "I can't just disappear and not return back to D.C. I've got a Director, superior, and a team to report back to." He sighs. "I'm a Federal Agent. I can't be a criminal."

"I don't believe I gave you a choice."

"Anyone could have killed those people."

"And your gun could be anywhere between them as we sit here and speak to one another." He informs him. "Not to mention your badge and your cellular phone."

Tony's shoulders slump as he grows obvious to his defeat.

"You're going to ruin me." Tony's tone is full of honesty.

"That is without a doubt, true, but I will do my best to spare your life if you bring me what I want."

"And after I give you what I want?

The man shrugs. "Maybe you can change your name. Maybe you can change your face." He takes drag. "I might just decide to kill you."

"Why don't you save me from hell and kill me now?"

He grins. "A good idea, but I want to see you suffer."

A knock on the door is heard and then it opens. An elderly woman dressed in a maid's outfit holds a tray of coffee and tea in her hands. Setting it down on the coffee table, she makes an exit without hardly making eye contact with any of the men.

"So what'll it be, Mr. DiNozzo?" He picks up a cup of coffee. "Shall I turn you into the police for murdering more than a handful of people, not forgetting that FBI Agent of course, or will you be joining my team for a short while and venturing off onto the path of every jewel thief's dream?"

Tony sits there in the toughest spot he has ever found himself in…


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: **_Sorry for the delay with this chapter and thanks to everyone who is reading and who has reviewed. I hope I can continue to make things interesting.-Geek_

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 4<strong>

The car door opens and the man that nearly put a bullet through his head during the fire exits first. In the middle of the backseat sits Tony. He stays still for a short while, but soon the other man sitting on the other side of him starts to shove him from the side indicating he better get out of the car, and quickly.

Now outside, Tony takes in his surroundings. Standing in front of a large building, his expression increases with worry as he notices how old everything around him is.

"Move." Says one man.

Without any warning, the two men grab a hold of Tony's arms and man-handles him until all three are standing behind the abandoned train station and next to its abandoned tracks.

Trying to get himself free by jerking against their hands, the men only grip him tighter and push him nearer to the tracks.

Grunting for a second, he then huffs and a small cloud of smoke can be seen in the cold air. Seconds later a frigid gust of wind finds them and the coldness nips at Tony's bones.

"Either we get back in the car or we're going to freeze to death."

Tony's remark goes unheard.

Looking at both men he notices that over their dark suit's they are wearing thick trench coats and scarves. Soon he notices their hands that are still holding his arms tightly; covered with black leather gloves to protect themselves from the cold and leaving any kind of fingerprints.

Looking ahead of him he tries to find a clearing through a congested wooded area, but finds no luck in seeing through to the other side. This kind of realization gives him a quick sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach because it not only rings true for the moment, but for the future of his life.

With his stomach feeling weak, he hunches over a little causing his line of sight to fall on the rusty railroad tracks by his feet.

His mind begins to race and he feels the unfamiliar feeling of feeling panicky. Clearing his throat, he takes such a deep breath that the two men take notice to this new reaction. Stepping a little further away from him, but keeping their hold on him, they stare at him and look as if they are waiting for him to become sick.

"Make sure a spec of your spit doesn't touch my shoes." One man bitterly growls.

Desperately taking another gulp of fresh air, he feels his stomach begin to twist and turn itself over. Trying to swallow, he feels that knot in his stomach rising and the warm sweetened flavor starting at the back of his throat. Trying to free his arms again, he fails and soon his body lurches forward, but nothing comes out of his mouth, but a sick sound.

The men look at one another before one lets one of Tony's arms go. Pulling out his cell phone, he walks away a little to make a call.

"When was the last time you had anything to eat?" The one that still holds him asks.

"…an hour before the fire." Tony's voice is small and without life.

Sighing, the man motions for the other to come back over to him. Once there he delivers the answer Tony just gave him. Both men look back at the car, then motion for the driver to bring the car closer to them.

Once the car is there its truck is popped open by the driver still nestled inside the car. One of the men reaches inside and opens up a tiny cooler full of what looks to be like their lunches for the day. Noticing the food, Tony's stomach both yearns for a bite and refuses a bite.

"Sit down." The man orders, then pushes Tony down on the dirty ground before he can even think to follow through to the order.

Tearing the wrapper off of one of the sandwich wraps, he trusts it in Tony's open and shaky hand that lay against the dirt ground.

"Eat." The man that pushed him down says.

"I don't think…I should…" Tony says, but his hand is nearing to his mouth slowly. Opening his mouth he takes such a big bite it seems as if he inhaled the portion of the sandwich that is inside of his mouth.

The men shoot each other an annoyed look, but let him continue to eat anyway knowing that if they do not, there will be no way to successfully put him on the train without people growing suspicious.

* * *

><p>The last thing Tony wanted to do was to sleep, but the warmth of the train and the comfort of the seat lulled him away to a dreamless one anyway.<p>

Opening his eyes slowly, he notices a man staring at him. The same man that he was discreetly handed over to when the train arrived. Looking down at his hands he sees that they still are slightly shaking, probably from low vital signs, stress, and fear. Looking slightly over his shoulder he takes note to a handful of people; all which look as if they've lived in the sticks all of their lives.

Taking in his attire for the first time he realizes that he's dressed as they are; easy to blend in with, he figures, and no means for suspicion. His beige thermal shirt and his warn jeans go nicely with his scuffed sneakers and filthy laces, and it is at this moment where he hopes that the underwear he is wearing is not only clean, but brand-new and straight out of the package.

Through the windows he can see acres of land with scattered farm houses in the far-away distance. Still, his coordinates are unknown to him and he figures that though he very well could still be in the Northeast, he could be heading more North than East.

Outside looks as if the temperature is dropping more and more as the train carries on from the small clusters of cattle he keeps seeing and the ground that is losing its shades of green and becoming shades of brown. Even the trees around him are losing their leaves, leaving only evergreens visible to the naked eye.

A slight chill creeps up his spine and causes him to stop focusing his attention outside the window. His attention now lies on the fourth mysterious man he has seen in less than twenty-four hours. Watching the man, he takes note to the same coldness in his eyes as the other three and tries to prepare himself for all the troubles he will find with this one; it is inevitable.

* * *

><p>The wheels of the train are not in motion anymore, but the wheels in Tony's mind keep going as he tries his best to piece together a way to escape. A task that has already proven itself to be extremely difficult as all of its consequences point in the negative direction.<p>

Looking at the empty seats around him, he wonders where the butch man that looks after him disappeared to. Needing to stretch his long legs, he puts his still unsteady hands on the top of the back of the chair in front of him and pushes himself to his feet. His balance is off, but he is still able to stand on his own two feet.

Inhaling, he notices the air is a bit fresher and instantly feels the desire to make a beeline to the train-cars exit where he can fling himself out into the open and scream to anyone that will listen. Sadly as soon as he takes a step further, the fresh air becomes icy as the man returns with a look much uglier than before.

"The train has stopped." Tony reports the obvious in hopes to possibly get anywhere with this particular man. "Where are we?"

The man keeps his mouth closed as he fishes for his cigarette case inside his pocket. Though dressed like the average civilian, which isn't much, wherever they may be, he still carries same cigarette case as the man who was out for Tony's blood.

Opening his mouth again, Tony wishes to speak, but he holds back as he realizes he very well could be wasting his breath. Thinking to himself, he decides to ask a different kind of question.

"Would it be possible to get something to eat or drink?" He makes a small motion to the space inside the train-car. "I know there isn't anybody else on here and there might be when the train starts moving again, but…I've got to put something in my system." He pauses momentarily. "It's mandatory."

The man shakes his match until the flame goes out. Reaching into his pocket he takes out his cigarette case again. "Cigarette?"

"No." Tony says quickly. "I need something to eat or drink."

The question seems so absurd to Tony, but he can not help it any longer. It is not about escaping or thinking of a way to escape, or about him being in great danger, but it is about putting something in his system to stop the shaking feeling he has. Something to give him strength as his early dinner and his several drinks afterwards, the night before, have completely warn off at this point.

The man puts his cigarette case away and studies Tony while taking the cigarette out of his mouth.

"I can't succeed in this mission if I'm not fed." Tony insists; his voice slightly frantic.

The man takes a drag, then looks over his shoulder.

"Meals aren't served on these kind of trains, but let me see if the conductor is willing to spare some of his dinner." Approaching Tony, he reveals a pair of handcuffs and slaps them on both of Tony's wrists while connecting them to the metal handle of the seat.

Looking down at this new kind of restraint, Tony breaks into a tiny sweat. As soon as he thinks his situation can not get any worse, it does, and he is left slightly stunned and defeated.

Falling down into his chair he discovers that the warmth his behind created all the while sitting has vanished; leaving the cushion beneath him cold and uncomfortable. Taking another look out the window he sees snowflakes dance in the air and a single approaching car with what he hopes to be new passengers eager to board the oldest train in history.

Any company at all is good company at this point…


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

The elevator makes a 'ding' and the leader of Team Gibbs takes a few quick and large strides before he finds himself standing in the center of his squad-room; a trail of sawdust and coffee lingers in the air behind him and invades the nostrils of the other Federal employees.

Turning his neck, he notices the empty chair behind Tony's desk. Turning his neck the other way he notices the empty chair behind Ziva's desk. Straightening his neck he stares down at McGee who is sitting behind his desk; waiting for a series of questions from his superior.

"Good morning, boss."

He nearly grunts at the mention of it being 'good', but decides to get straight to the point. "Where's Tony and Ziva?"

"Uh, Ziva called and said she would be about twenty minutes late for work. Some kind of accident happened on-"

"And Tony?"

"Uh, I don't know." McGee shrugs. "Maybe he lost track of time while on vacation."

"He better not have." Gibbs mutters, then rounds his desk and places his cup of steaming hot coffee on top of it. "Did you try to call him?"

"No…" He clears his throat; nervously. "I mean, I didn't call him because I thought maybe his flight was cancelled or delayed or-"

"Did you have any idea where Tony was going?"

"No." He takes his fingers off of his keyboard with a slight defeat visible in his brow. "I should have known where Tony was going?"

"No." Gibbs shrugs. "…just thought somebody would have asked him…"

McGee begins to open his mouth again when the air around them shifts. Picking up his steaming cup of hot coffee, he stares at Ziva while she takes her backpack off of her shoulders. From his desk, McGee opens his eyes widely to give Ziva some indication on their boss's current mood.

"Good morning." She says with a small smile.

McGee shakes his head slightly; telling her that she started off on the wrong foot.

"Ziva."

"Yes, Gibbs?" She gives him her full attention; her weapon and badge still somewhere on her body.

"Any idea where Tony is?"

"No." She takes a glance at his desk. "Is he not back from vacation yet?"

Gibbs shrugs. "Dunno."

Ziva looks over at McGee quickly, then looks at Gibbs once again. "Has anyone called him since arriving this morning?"

"No. I expected him to be here." Gibbs turns his body slightly and looks at McGee. "Call him."

"Cell phone?"

"All of his numbers."

Taking a seat, Gibbs sits there with his fingers interlaced with each other. Ziva looks at McGee as he slowly reaches for his cell phone. Shrugging at him, she places her backpack on the floor, then reaches for her weapon and badge. Placing them inside of one of her desk drawers, she then finds her seat and wheels herself underneath her desk.

Gibbs looks over at her with a look she is unsure of. Turning back to McGee, he senses something is wrong. "No answer?"

"Not on his cell phone. Let me try his home phone." McGee searches his phone again, this time taking a little bit longer as Tony's home number is not one of his numbers on speed-dial. "Got it!"

Gibbs ears perk up.

"…the number…I haven't dialed it yet…" McGee says sheepishly.

Gibbs settles back with a disgusted look. Grabbing for his coffee, he sucks in the blazing hot liquid and tries to be patient.

"Perhaps his flight was cancelled or it's been delayed?" Ziva offers while they wait.

"Why is it that nobody knew where he was going, but everyone claims he flew to his destination?"

Ziva stays quiet for a few moments as she thinks to herself.

"…well…" Gibbs says as easily as he can.

"I got his machine." McGee puts his cell phone back in his pocket. "…I didn't leave a message…figured it'd be kind of pointless…

"Speaking of myself, whenever I think about Tony going on vacation I always picture him to be somewhere far away from here."

Gibbs shifts in his seat a little at her comment, but does not say anything.

"Ziva's probably right, boss. Why would Tony stick around here?"

Gibbs looks at Ziva. "Did you happen to ask him where he was going?"

"Yes." Ziva admits. "I asked him several times, but he never gave me a straight answer."

"Name a few places."

Ziva swipes a look at her computer screen and notices the time. "Shouldn't we give him a few more hours?"

"Name a few places." Gibbs' voice is stern this time.

Ziva flashes McGee a look, then begins to call what Tony had mentioned the week before. "California, Hawaii, Florida…Europe."

"He didn't take enough time to go to Europe." Gibbs automatically scratches it off the list. "What's in all of these states that would attract Tony?"

"Women." Ziva and McGee say in unison.

"That's any state." Gibbs mutters; they nod in agreement.

Thinking for a few moments, Ziva then opens her mouth. "Beaches."

"Yeah, but that goes right back to women." McGee mentions. "With Tony they kind of go hand-in-hand with one another."

"With Tony women tend to go hand-in-hand with everything." Gibbs mutters; they nod in agreement.

"I still say we should give him a few more hours." Ziva says casually.

"Yeah." McGee breaks into a silly little grin. "Maybe he finally found the love of his life and feels the frozen breath of marriage right on the back of his neck."

Ziva looks at McGee like he is insane, while Gibbs narrows his eyes at McGee. "Have you ever been married, Ma-Gee?"

His silly grin vanishes and he clears his throat. "No, boss."

"Then shut up about it." He orders.

"Yes, boss."

"Don't call me boss."

"Sorry, boss."

Gibbs shoots him a glare that is followed by Ziva shaking her head slightly at McGee's stupidity. "I'm gonna speak to the Director."

"About Tony?" Ziva questions.

Gibbs only gives her a slight nod, then drops his coffee cup inside his trashcan on his way out of the squad-room.

Ziva leans over her desk. "Did you tell him I was going to be twenty minutes later for work this morning?"

"Yes. He didn't seem to care after I told him I didn't hear from Tony." McGee pauses. "Where do you think Tony could be?"

She only shrugs.

* * *

><p>Night begins to fall as he sits in his train seat. The burning desire to relieve himself has been burning him for the past two hours, but nobody cares. The few people he has witnessed getting on and off the train do not even acknowledge he is there, and the man that watches over him finds pleasure in his discomfort.<p>

Thankful for a packet of peanut butter cookies and half of a peanut-butter and jelly sandwich, he keeps reminding himself that he is lucky to have gotten something to eat that did not end up being poisoned.

With each passing minute he thinks of how much more serious his position and condition is becoming. He re-counts the amount of times the train stopped; at times he wonders if he had been knocked out and dragged onto another train that looked identical to the one before.

His mind is playing tricks on him because the stress is reaching a level that overwhelms him.

Looking out the train window creates a fear for his uncertain future. So much land with so many trees, and snow. The biting cold is outside of the metal cart he has been traveling in for what he figures to be eight or nine hours. Even if he were to find a bolt of strength to escape, he would die out there; not from the cold alone, but from hunger.

* * *

><p>The bar downtown is colder tonight. It is not from the disgusting low-lives that slither and stagger their ways in and out of the single brown door, nor is it the draft that comes through from the old, creaky windows. Instead the coldness is a result of a familiar face she always took a liking to not being there.<p>

Sitting inside a booth, alone, she sips her usual simple glass of white wine and tries to make sense of her life and what she does in it. The process makes her depressed, but it also makes her silly; proving to anyone that knows her that she can take the good and the bad which gives her a great deal of balance in her life.

Looking at the front of the bar she can not help, but look towards the door every time it opens. She likes to see him, and just like the opening and closing of the door, if she can only see him in passing for the rest of her life, she could find some level of content in that.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note:** Sorry to any readers that might have gotten an alert in their mailbox for the 6th chapter earlier in the week, and came here to read it only to find it wasn't there anymore. I thought I had made a mistake so I wanted to check with another NCIS fan about something. I just got my answer last night, then I forgot to upload it (like a dork). Anyway. Here is the 6th chapter. Hopefully the 7th won't be too long of a wait. Thanks. **- Geek**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 6<strong>

Stepping outside of a black Honda Civic appears a Federal Agent; average height and average built. Her attire proper from neck to toe; her face expressionless and stern. With medium length black hair pulled back, she begins walking on the path of the walk-way. Straight ahead of her the door is pulled open in expectancy and a thin blond woman appears with a small child attached to her leg.

Nodding a hello, the Agent presents her badge. "Special Agent Parker." She takes notice to the child and smiles a small hello. "May I come in?"

"Of course." The woman quickly says.

* * *

><p>Inside the squad-room McGee and Ziva look at their superior with worry written all over their faces. Gibbs tries to ignore them, but fails miserably.<p>

"Nothing we can do now except wait." He reminds them though he sounds uncertain. "We'll get a lead."

"I do not understand how we have not received a phone call yet." Ziva's tone impatient. "It is not as if he vacationed in private." She shakes her head while scrunching up her nose. "It does not even make sense."

Gibbs just stares at her.

McGee turns a little in his chair. As he readies himself to say something, a loud shuffle is heard and suddenly Abby appears.

"TONY IS MISSING?" She hollers because she is both frightened and angry. "Why wasn't I told?"

"…because you'd react like this…" McGee says in a low voice.

She socks him one right in the arm. "That isn't funny, McGee. THIS isn't funny." She shoots a look to Gibbs. "Where could he be, Gibbs?"

"I don't know, Abs." He gives a slow shrug, then reaches for his cup of coffee. "Just don't think of the worst."

Abby has an instant reaction to his words and literally takes a step back while raising her arms past her head. "Are you kidding me? Gibbs, I've already thought of the worst and I've already played out at least ten scenarios in my head…" She trails on to nothing, then gets back on track, "TONY COULD BE LYING DEAD IN AN ALLEY SOMEWHERE!"

Gibbs shoots out of his chair and tosses his empty cup of coffee into his trashcan. "ABBY!"

She shrinks at the volume of his voice. "…well, he could be…" She frowns. "…what are we going to do?"

Ziva looks from her to Gibbs, then back to her. "Hopefully somebody will contact NCIS about him."

"What if they don't in the next ten minutes? Day? Week? Month?" Abby tries to slow her racing mind, but realizes she can not do that. "…YEAR?"

"Better go back to your lab, Abs." Gibbs suggests as he leaves his desk to stand in front of her.

"Don't send me to my lab, Gibbs. Not now. Not when Tony is out there somewhere all alone. He needs us!" She practically whimpers.

Gibbs looks to his side and notices McGee is looking as hysterical as Abby, but in a subtle way. Sighing, he opens his arms and takes a step forward to embrace her.

* * *

><p>Coming from the head, Gibbs watches his feet as he walks. In his mind, his thoughts are split on how to handle Tony if were to ever show up out of the blue. Still, the nagging feeling in his gut reminds him that something is terribly wrong, and that Tony might seriously be laying in an alley somewhere as Abby suggested earlier.<p>

Hearing the elevator ding, he hardly cares as he turns the corner created by several desks. In seconds he is back in his working quarters to find his two field Agents staring at him as if they are hoping for good news. Staring back at them he almost gives an uncharacteristically sheepish look to each of them, but decides he better keep his face blank and his worry at bay for the sake of his team.

Finding his chair he takes a seat and begins to pull himself underneath it by holding on to the edge of his desk. A pen then drops to the floor and he mutters a few curse words as he bends over in his chair to grab a hold of it.

"Hi." Says an unfamiliar voice. "Is this where I can find Special Agent Gibbs?"

Ziva stares wide-eyed at the woman as if she is here to deliver the worst news any of them could ever possibly take on any given day.

Tossing the pen on his desk, he stops moving and gives the woman a skeptical look before speaking. "Who's asking?"

"I am." She turns her attention to the man that just seemed to appear out of nowhere. "I have some information for you…"

Gibbs feels the heat from Ziva and McGee's stare. Closing his eyes, he quickly tries to mentally prepare himself for anything that might occur in the next several minutes. "Who are you and what's this about?"

Leaving her position in front of Ziva's desk, she stands directly in front of his desk and extends her hand. Rising from his seat, he keeps his hand to himself.

"Who are you?" He asks with a much more gruff voice this time around.

Taking her hand back, she almost smirks at his behavior. "Special Agent Parker. FBI."

Gibbs inhales, then gives his shoulders a subtle shake before mentally patting himself on the back for not shaking an FBI Agent's hand. Fornell is one thing, but everybody else in that agency is another.

"What's your business here?"

"I have information on Tony." She almost sighs; finding it difficult for herself as well. "It's not much to go on, but it's something."

He gives a quick look to McGee, then to Ziva. Looking back at his new acquaintance, he gives her a slight jerk of his head. "Come with me."

"Where are we going?"

"Somewhere we can talk."

When he and the agent are out of the squad-room, Ziva and McGee look at each other with a little more ease now.

"It can't be that bad from how she put it." McGee comments.

Ziva only stares at him; afraid to agree with him and afraid to say anything else.

* * *

><p>Gibbs holds his head up by resting his chin in one of his hands. Staying agonizingly quiet, he stares at her as if he is trying to look directly through her.<p>

On her end the tiny tidbits she got from Tony about his superior come to life with every passing moment she spends with him.

Keeping his hand where it is, he speaks differently as his jaw is limited to movement. "How do I know you're telling the truth?" He squints his eyes. "What if that woman was lying to you?"

Agent Parker shakes her head slowly while shrugging. "I don't know how she could have been. She swore that he was the man who tried to bring her daughter to her."

He removes his hand finally and looks at the table for a moment before looking back at her. "You're telling me that because of a good deed, DiNozzo is responsible for the murder of you partner?"

"I didn't say that." She bites back a little quicker than she needs to, but she chooses not to apologize. "You're putting words in my mouth."

A growl begins to form at the back of his throat. "You just told me that your partner was found dead in the same hotel Tony disappeared from!"

"I only mentioned it. It's all just a coincidence. A bad one, but one none-the-less." She knits her eyebrows. "The right thing to do now is to thank me for coming here."

He almost laughs in her face. "For all I know that woman didn't see DiNozzo at all. I didn't speak to her."

"So you're the only one that has the ability to read another person?" She feels heat rising from underneath her collar a bit. "You might be the best in NCIS, but you aren't everywhere else."

He slams his hand flat against the table both from annoyance and frustration. "Listen to me-" He inhales sharply, then exhales loudly. "You've given me nothing I or my team can go on."

"It's all that I have!" She insists. "Tony was staying at the hotel that caught fire. Now he's nowhere to be found, but we've got a body on our hands."

"You've got a body on your hands." He corrects her. "I'm not getting blood on my hands. Tony didn't kill anybody. He wasn't on a case, he was on a vacation."

"I know." Her voice low. "For the past several years he's taken the same week off, and when he returns he always drops into the bar down-town at some point in the week. Usually it's a Monday." She feels a bit sheepish at not only knowing this, but voicing it. "Everything more or less just fell into place. His not showing, then the news of my partner, and now my meeting with Maggie Roberts today."

"It could be a coincidence." He mutters sarcastically.

Finally annoyed by his attitude, her eyebrows drop a few level and almost rest on her eyes. "Look, with each passing second this coincidence is turning itself more into a link than anything else." She fights the urge to smack the table-top with the palm of her hand. "This is the only lead you've got."

"It's not a lead if I don't know just where in the hell DiNozzo could be!" His blood pumps wildly in his veins.

She pulls back a little. "Well, it's all I've got right now." She shrugs. "I don't know what else to tell you."

Sitting there quietly, they both try to get their nerves and their tempers under control. Taking a few glances at one another proves that though they are not very fond of each other, they still show worry in their gazes about the man in question.

"What's he to you?" Gibbs questions in true interrogation mode.

"Nothing." She answers at the correct speed as to almost prove to him that she could not be lying about her answer. "He is just someone that I have shared a few drinks with on occasion."

"You ever go home with him afterwards?"

The question almost makes her raise her eyebrows, but she succeeds with keeping them at normal level. "Never."

Gibbs makes a face, then decides to speak from the corner of his mouth. "Not his type, anyway."

Finding that slightly insulting, she also knows it is true so she practically lets it roll off her shoulders. The moment calls for something much more serious anyway.

"When you spoke to Maggie Roberts was she alone?"

"Yeah, except for her daughter…" She stops as if somebody had slapped her across the face.

"How old is she?" He asks quickly.

"…six…seven, maybe?"

He rises from his seat abruptly. "Call her and tell her to get down here immediately with her daughter. She's the reason DiNozzo went against the fire. If he actually was able to reach her, she's the only one that would know."

Without another word, Gibbs exits the conference room and leaves the door wide open for her to follow.

Shaking her head, she mentally kicks herself for not thinking to question the daughter.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Looking through the window he watches small clusters of people prepare themselves to glide down the mountain on their expensive skis. He witnesses a father bending down to tighten his son's laces and successfully being hit from behind by a woman holding her skis in her hand. He is in the wrong state of mind to laugh, but a tiny smile tugs at the corners of his mouth anyway.

Hearing a door click open, he turns around sharply. His keeper from the long and tiresome train ride continues to sit comfortably on the cushioned chair next to the fireplace; the roaring fire within it takes off the chill.

Tony watches as a slender man closes and locks the door behind him. He is of average height and average built; his eyes look as black as the hair on his head, and Tony considers for the first time in his life that the eyes are the windows to ones soul.

Still facing him, the man pulls out a familiar cigarette case and opens it to show a full stock of the cancer sticks. After placing one in is mouth, he holds it out to the nameless man sitting by the fire and waits for him to take his choice. "I would offer you one, Mr. DiNozzo, but something tells me you aren't one for smoking."

Tony stays quiet and watches as the two men offer each other a light. The act alone is simple and practical, but he feels disgusted from everything they are about.

The man closes the case with a grin. Putting it back in his pocket rounds an end table and finds a seat on the couch that faces the large windows. "Please, sit down."

"I don't feel very much like sitting." Tony informs him with a snarl.

The man inhales from his cigarette and ignores Tony's attitude, then raises his eyebrows. "That seems about right. You've spent the last several hours sitting down on a god awful train."

"Eight hours."

"Well I hardly feel responsible for the delay. You see this time of year always calls for snow. Lots of it, to be frank." He puts uses his free hand to motion towards the large windows. "…and as you can see, Mr. DiNozzo, this is Vermont."

"What the hell am I doing in Vermont?"

The man grins; knowingly. "I was informed that you are one to ask questions…" He pauses enough just to notice Tony's eyes change from a light brown to almost black. "…so I'm willing to be more decent than some of my cohort's and answer your questions."

"That's mighty decent of you." His tone flat and full of sarcasm.

"Considering all that you have been through I'll excuse your attitude." The man pauses to take a drag. "You're here to learn from us, Mr. DiNozzo." He leans back and rests against the back of the couch. "Here is where, they say, the magic happens." He waits; then forms another grin. "Something tells me you're itching to ask another question."

"Yeah, when the hell is everyone I meet going to stop talking like a character from the movies?"

His grin turns into a full-blown smile; his strikingly white teeth so blinding they could cause traffic.

"Does our properness make you uncomfortable, Mr. DiNozzo?"

"No. Instead your criminal offends me." Tony bites back. "The only reason why I am here is to spare my life." He sighs heavily. "At least for a little while."

"The only reason you are here is to find the diamond." He corrects him. "Without having a mind-set like ours you'll only make things more difficult for whatever life you have left." He puts out his cigarette. "Now, with that in mind, several perks comes with the profession, Mr. DiNozzo." Standing up, he smoothes his slightly crumpled tie inside of his expensive suit coat. "If you have never been around high society before, prepare yourself for the most sophisticated time you will ever have in your life. It isn't just the extravagant dinner parties, the glistening diamonds, or the elegant women-it's all the style that goes right along with it." He is circling him now. "I bet you'd do just about anything to get out of these clothes."

"They're alright. They're clothes." He hates to admit.

"That is very true, but in order to be one of us, you must look like one of us." He snaps his fingers and alerts the man by the fire. "Get the tailor on the phone."

"The boss says I'm in a need of a new suit." The man says gruffly.

"If you asked my opinion you're also in need of a hair cut, too." The man mutters. "After the call you make one of your own to our barber." He looks at Tony's head. "Yours is fine just the way it is."

The mention of a tailor goes straight to one part of Tony's brain. All his life he dreamed of having enough money to have his own tailor. His personal go-to-man that would give him the official James Bond edge he always wanted.

Shaking his head, he clears his mind of all those improper thoughts and focuses back on what is important. "What's your name?"

"That's one question I am unable to answer."

"How can I report any of my findings if I don't know anyone's name?"

"We report to you, Mr. DiNozzo." He shrugs. "As deep into our line of work you will become, never-not even for a second, believe that you've earned our trust nor will we ever feel the same about yours."

Finding such a disturbance in what he says, Tony grits his teeth for a moment. "What if I just disappear?"

"You haven't had much luck in trying to so far…" He grins.

Tony watches as he reaches for his cigarette case once again…

* * *

><p>Gibbs is red in the face as he tries to break the Director with his flame-infused glare. "I don't need her, Leon."<p>

"I find that rather hard to agree with when she's the only reason you've got anything on DiNozzo."

"She didn't even think to complete the investigation before she left our only suspect."

"I was under the impression that Maggie Roberts was more of an informant than a suspect." He tries to read Gibbs further, but his glare is too full of heat for him to get through. "Why can't you try to be a little bit more accepting of other people's help?"

"She's not part of my team!" He barks. "I don't want her help!"

Slamming his palm down on his desk, he makes a loud echo in the room. "You listen to me Gibbs and you listen good. Don't come into my office and tell me what it is that you want. You answer to me, not the other way around. Furthermore, I answer to someone in a much higher position and I am the first one held responsible when disasters strikes." He takes a much needed deep breath. "Agent Parker put herself in a tough position by coming here-"

"We don't know that if we can't trust her."

"Something tells me you're never going to trust her or anyone else."

"I trust my team. That I know."

"Whatever your feelings may be towards her, you can't deny that she's been a help in leading this case somewhere."

"Yeah-straight to the FBI." He begins to pace the floor.

Vance sighs at his uneasy agent, and tries to calm his own nerves before speaking. "Has she given you any indication that she wants the lead on this?"

"Not yet, but it's comin'." He is so sure of himself. "Her lead, her case."

"You don't know that, Gibbs." He moves a pen around on his desk. "She could end up being like Fornell." Gibbs abruptly stops pacing and spits fire at Vance with his intense gaze. "All I'm saying is, you don't know who she is, but you know what she is about."

"I don't even know that." He corrects him.

"Stop being paranoid for a minute, Gibbs." His tone serious. "She came here right after finding out about Tony."

"How the hell do I know that?" He insists. "She could have made some phone calls. She could have met with somebody else."

"Okay, so lets say she phoned somebody at the FBI. Lets say she met with another Agent-what's the problem? She has obligations to answer to just like everybody else-especially everybody else who works for the government." Gibbs stands there with a sense of ignorance written all over his face. "I can see I'm not getting through to you, Gibbs."

"Nope." Gibbs says loud and clear.

Vance narrows his eyes. "Too bad. From this moment on you will work together with the FBI."

"Like hell."

"That is an order, Gibbs." Vance warns him. "If I ever see Agent Parker or anyone else from the FBI walking in the direction of my office, you will answer to me."

Gibbs holds his tongue by biting down on it.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

The full length mirror inside the bedroom shows a reflection of a man who is slowly starting to lose sight of himself. Though his face is familiar, his expression is frighteningly blank. Though his clothes are expensive, these particular clothes are blushingly pricey. His visit with the tailor went beyond some of his wildest dreams, but never for a moment did he feel good about where he was and what he was doing.

Hiding his fingertips underneath the suit jacket, he grips the material while a concrete look starts to form on his face. Suddenly every decision he had made in the last several days starts to come alive in an unstoppable reel.

* * *

><p>He can feel himself standing as his new shoes are harsh on his feet, but he has a hard time feeling much of anything else and if he is sure he is feeling something, he has a hard time defining what the feeling is. He has never felt so uncertain in his life.<p>

He feels himself being forced forward as the man behind him will not go around him. Walking deeper into the dining hall he is greeted with questioning looks from just about every face he takes into consideration. Trying to study their faces for any future encounters, he finds it difficult to find what makes them differ from one another as the look of money makes them all look the same to him.

The slender man from earlier is the first to sit down at one of the well-decorated tables. Motioning to one of the chairs across from him, he looks at Tony. Hesitating for a moment, Tony then slips into the chair and pulls himself under the table. In seconds a bottle of bourbon is brought to the table with several empty classes. The waiter places the tray in the center of the table and leaves to tend to other people.

Tony watches as the man passes a glass to everyone at the table. With each chair filled, except one, each man waits readily for the dark liquor to splash into their glasses. Inhaling, he watches as he is poured a much larger amount than the other men.

"From the suit to the liquor to the…man, this now is what you are." He raises his glass as do the other men. "Toast?" Moving his head a little to the right, Tony narrows his eyes at the man. "You aren't still sore about having to go through what you did to get here, are you?"

"I'm far from sore." He grunts. "Just because I've been forced to wear these clothes doesn't mean I am what you are." His eyes flicker to each of the other men. "…or any of you." He uses his hand to push his full glass more to the center of the table.

The man grins at this, but gives to nod to the other men before taking a full gulp of his drink. "You're still in the class that doesn't want to believe what is really happening for whatever reason you might have, but in-time you will graduate to the next class…one where your battle between good and not-so-good will finally have its ultimate outcome…" His grin widens as his eyes twinkle. "…the not-so-good coming out beaten, but not broken-"

"Enough!" Tony growls.

He grins at his discomfort, then looks past him. "Okay, Mr. DiNozzo. Enough is enough…" He gives a slight nod. "…for now…"

The air around them turns sweet and a slight breeze skates across the back of Tony's neck. Turning his head to the side he inhales the familiar scent of something feminine and physically pulls himself back a little as he takes in the new face he sees.

He takes notice to her blond hair that is cut just above her shoulders; her neck on display for anyone and everyone to see. Her eyes look as if they are crystallized shades of blue and they hold his gaze longer than they should for all the right and wrong reasons.

"Ava." The slender man stands and greets her by kissing her cheek. "I am surprised to see you could make it."

"I'm surprised myself."

"Please, sit down." He motions for one of the men to leave and he does. "Wine?"

"Yes, thank you."

Without knowing how it happened, Tony feels himself sitting straighter than before. His hands have already ran themselves over the suit jacket he is wearing and the desire to check how straight his tie is presents himself.

Turning her attention to him she puts out her hand and waits patiently for him to say something to her.

"Mr. DiNozzo, Ava Fontaine." The slender man says.

Finally finding his voice, Tony takes her hand and gently shakes it. "Mrs. Fontaine." He gives a slight nod.

"Ms. Fontaine." She corrects him and receives a more assured nod from him this time around. Slowly she takes her hand back, but never breaks eye contact. "What brings you here?"

"Business." He breaks eye contact only to glance at the man. "Nothing, but business."

* * *

><p>Gibbs frowns as he stares at Abby's back as she makes her way back to her lab. She has stopped inside the squad-room for no other reason than to find out if anyone has made any contact with Tony. Looking to McGee his bottom lip sticks out a little as he begins to form a thought. This only makes McGee more aware that he is of interest to his boss, and as usual, more nervous.<p>

"Better keep an eye on her."

"Abby?"

"If I see her up here one more time before noon I'm gonna blow a fuse." He sighs. "Work from her lab."

"Work on what, Boss?" He clears his throat quickly. "I mean, what is it that you want me to look into?"

"Take DiNozzo's computer with you." He notices McGee's eyes grow a size larger. "You got a problem with that?" He barks viciously.

The tech guru jumps out of his chair, "No!" He clears his throat a little. "…I'll be happy to take his computer."

"Take it down to Abby's lab. The two of you, find out what's on it." He looks to Ziva. "You're with me."

"Where are we going?"

"DiNozzo's apartment."

"What about Agent Parker?" Ziva questions as she remembers she went to grab a snack from the vending machine.

Grabbing a piece of post-it paper he never uses, he scribbles a few words on it. Taking it over to the spare desk he allows her to use, he sticks it on the face of the computer monitor. Grabbing his gun and badge, he places them where they belong on his body and looks to Ziva, "Lets go."

* * *

><p>Ziva stands from her crouching position and sighs, "I do not know what you exact us to find, Gibbs. We have been here before and we have found nothing."<p>

He stays quiet as he shuffles through Tony's mail.

Ziva looks in the direction of his bedroom, but stands right where she is. "Have you found something?"

"Cable bill." He mutters. "A coupon booklet." He throws the mail on top the kitchen counter; the force making it splatter everywhere.

"Perhaps we should head back to NCIS and hold of those camp-lights."

"Campfire." He corrects her. "Those aren't any good when DiNozzo's not here to hold them." He stops to look straight at her, finally. "Doesn't it bother you at all that we don't have the slightest clue as to where DiNozzo is?"

"Yes…" She says easily, "…as I am sure it bothers everyone else on the team."

He squints a little. "When DiNozzo was running around with that woman a couple of years ago you couldn't seem to sit still about it." He comments. "What's changed?"

She shrugs. "I never thought I would ever have to admit this, but I suppose I was a little jealous-"

"A little?"

"Yes. A little." She says sternly. "The rest of myself was worried for his well-being."

He nearly cracks a smile, but chooses not to.

* * *

><p>Coming through the elevator doors, Gibbs spots Vance resting his arms over the balcony. Looking away before the two can engage in serious eye contact, he comes face to face with Agent Parker.<p>

"Agent Gibbs-"

"Agent Parker." He Interrupts.

"Where have you been?"

He stands there rigid for a minute, then shakes himself as if a chill ran down his spine. Rounding her, he walks behind his desk and begins to pull his gun and badge from his body.

"Agent Gibbs." She says again, this time more firmly.

"Agent Parker." He says in the same tone of voice.

Knitting her eyebrows, she glances at Ziva who is purposely ignoring her.

"…I'm having a hard time following…" She looks back to him as he now sits quietly behind his desk. "I thought we were working as a team."

"We are." He says easily.

"I've been trying to figure out just where in the hell everyone went for the last two hours."

"It's only been an hour and fifteen minutes."

"An hour and fifteen minutes?"

He shrugs. "Give or take."

Agent Parker takes another glance at Ziva who is now shrugging along with Gibbs. "Everyone on the team forgot to give me a way to contact them."

"No." Gibbs states. "We didn't forget."

"Then where are they?" She presents the post-it he left on her computer monitor. "How far am I supposed to get with an area code?"

"Dunno. How far do ya think you can get?" His eyes wide and questionable.

Setting her jaw straight, she crumples the tiny piece of paper into a tight ball. Dropping it from her hand, Gibbs watches as it lands next to one of his hands.

"Angry?" He asks with a smug smirk plastered on his face.

With her eyes darkening by the second, she leans in further until she invades his personal space. "Somewhere in the back of my mind I knew you'd be just as much of a bastard as everybody says you are, but I didn't think you'd be stupid enough to act like one when one of your agents needs your help." She finishes with a growl. "If you know what's good for your agent, you'll start thinking of me as part of your team."

"Like hell." He balls his hands into large fists.

Ziva does her best to keep pretending like she is not listening, but it has started to become extremely hard.

"I haven't done a damn thing to you or anyone on your team, Agent Gibbs."

"Doesn't matter. You want in where you don't belong so you can get some sort of victory after we do your job." He looks away from her and focuses on his computer screen. "Like hell I'm going to make the FBI look good."

She nearly rolls her eyes at his mild declaration. Sighing, she turns around and feels a set of eyes on her. Looking at Vance, she pauses for a moment and locks eyes with him. Taking a deep breath after sometime, she then turns around and stares at Gibbs.

"The only thing I'd need to do is go straight up there and speak to your Director…" She wait's a moment. "…but I don't want to be that type of agent. I want to help, Gibbs, that's all. I do not want any kind of medal or any kind of victory. I don't even want a damn job-well-done pat on the back. I just want to help find a missing agent…"

"You've got an angle." He says roughly.

"I'd like to know what angle you think that is."

He shrugs. "Dunno, but everyone has an angle."

Offended by his remark, she feels it straight to the pit of her stomach. "I wake up every morning and I investigate the same types of cases you do. I work together with the same types of people you do." She pauses. "I don't have any other angle than to do my job and to know that I did my best while trying to bring some type of closure to family and friends who are waiting for answers on what we refer to as the victims." Taking a another breath, she stays silent for a moment. "You may not ever trust me, but you will show me some respect regardless that this is your turf."

Looking past her, Gibbs watches as Vance disappears into his secretaries office. Keeping his fangs concealed, Gibbs ponders the idea of there being some sort of relationship between his superior and the agent in front of him.

"Alright." He finally says. "I'll respect ya." He rises slowly out of his chair and pushes his face further into her personal space. "…soon as you bring me something I can work with."

Rounding his desk, he nearly knocks his shoulder into hers as he passes his desk. "Coffee run." He says to Ziva.

Sighing, Agent Parker watches as he gets inside the metal box and jabs a button on the panel.

* * *

><p>Now alone at the table, Tony feels every pair of eyes burning holes into every part of his body. Reaching up to loosen his tie, he notices a disapproving look from a slightly older woman. Thinking to roll his eyes and continue with his original plan, he soon changes his mind when he watches a familiar face take a seat at his table for the second time this evening.<p>

"Care for some advice?"

"Sure." He says easily; a tiny smile threatening to sail across his lips.

"Don't draw anymore attention to yourself." She reaches for the knot in his tie and straightens it a little.

He reaches for the knot and just touches it. His gaze so fixated on hers. "How much is that going to cost me?"

"It's free." She says with a girlish hint to her voice.

Looking down at her hands she can feel his gaze still on her. Glancing at him, she offers him a simple smile.

"Do you think it'd be alright if I asked you a question?"

She shrugs. "I guess it all depends on the question."

"Right" He laughs lightly, but looks over his shoulders uneasily. "Before I ask you one, are there any types of questions that could get you into any kind of trouble?"

Her eyes widen a little in surprise. "Why on earth would I get into any kind of trouble?"

His eyes narrow. "Considering the company you keep, who knows…"

She laughs. "I think you're forgetting something, Mr. DiNozzo…" She runs her fingertip around her wine glass. "…you keep the same company as I do."

He knits his eyebrows, then decides to make a bold step by asking her a question. "What's a woman like you doing in a place like this?"

She slowly forms a dazzling smile. "Where else would a woman rather be?" She wait's a moment. "Hmm?" She breaks into a girlish giggle. "The dresses. The jewels. The champagne." He looks at her with an indescribable expression that makes her slightly uneasy, but only on the inside. "What seems to be troubling, you?"

"Something tells me you didn't choose to be here." He inhales sharply. "You aren't like the others. Of course you're the only woman I've seen since…" He trails on. "…but there's more to it."

She turns curious. "Like what?"

"It's in the way you carry yourself. The way you speak…" He pauses momentarily. "…it's in the way you smile…your laugh…"

Reaching for her glass she takes a sip. When she finishes, she places it firmly back on the table. "Would you care to dance, Mr. DiNozzo?"

"Tony." He offers. "You can call me, Tony."

She stands as he does, and extends her hand. "I will call you Anthony…"


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

A man grunts as he opens his car door and yanks his trench coat from between the inside and the outside of car. When it is clear he slams it shut with more force than needed, and begins to walk in the direction of the front door.

"Over here, Tobias!" Gibbs calls to him as he stands next to his Charger.

Stopping in his tracks, he only turns his head. "I hope you don't expect to have this meeting outside in this cold weather."

Gibbs places his keys in his pocket. "I hope you don't expect to have this meeting inside without dinner."

Fornell shrugs. "You didn't tell me to bring anything."

Sighing more to himself, he starts to walk in the direction of his friend. "I told you the last time we had dinner to hold on to the coupons and that the next time I called you, you ought to bring dinner."

"For Christ's sakes, Jethro, we haven't had dinner together in over three months."

"It's nice to know you've been counting." He twists the knob on his front door and enters his home. "Check the bottom of your shoes."

Fornell stares at him funnily, then begins to check the bottom of his shoes. "You leave your front door unlocked and you're worried about dirt getting on your floors?" He shakes his head. "Who knows what or whose been in this house when you're away."

"Everyone doesn't know that I leave it unlocked…" He eyes his friend for a minute, "…only co-workers, relatives, and friends…who forget to bring dinner…"

Fornell rolls his eyes. Leaving his trench on, he follows Gibbs into his living room. "I'll leave in the next minute if you're going to carry on about dinner for the rest of the night."

"I won't." Gibbs says somewhat easily. "Guess we'll just tough it out."

"Oh Christ…" Fornell rolls his eyes again, then begins to remove his trench. "Don't tell me such a vibrant fellow like yourself doesn't have any food in his fridge for when it comes time to throw high society parties."

Gibbs rolls his eyes at the sarcasm. "I might have a steak or two."

"Oh, a steak or two?" He raises his eyebrows. "Perhaps you might have a few potatoes on hand? Maybe a bag of frozen vegetables, no?"

"You're asking for it, Tobias." He warns.

"You leave me no choice, Jethro." He shrugs, then smirks. "I'm assuming you don't know your way around the kitchen so why don't I cook and you read the file?"

"Where is it?"

"Back in the car."

"You left the file in the car?" Gibbs refrains from giving him a head-slap. "Next thing you're going to tell me is you've been followed."

"I might have been." He shrugs. "I don't know who in their right mind would be after you, but I suppose it is possible."

"Shut up." Gibbs retorts.

* * *

><p>With the sleeves of his dress shirt rolled up, Fornell touches the rim of his glass of red wine. "How many people know of DiNozzo's disappearance?"<p>

"I'd imagine anybody who has tuned into the news recently…" He holds his bottle of beer in a snug grip. "We put it out there in hopes we'd get a lead…." He sighs, then takes a sip.

"What about this kid he supposedly went to save?"

"He got to her, but then someone got to him. She remembers a fireman and a gun, but nothing else."

"A fireman and gun?" He makes a weird face. "You must be slipping Jethro, because those two obviously do not go together."

Gibbs feels the tension in his shoulders increasing because of his friends remark and everything else that is going on with the case. "We checked, Tobias. Ziva and I flew to New York and we met with nearly every fireman that could have been dispatched during the fire. None of them were guilty of anything that happened that night."

"They could have lied."

"My gut told me they didn't." He states.

Deciding to back away from an impulse to debate the pros and cons of Gibbs' gut, Fornell takes a sip of his wine, then takes a moment to think. "So what's your next plan?"

He leans back in his chair and motions towards the open folder in front of him. "Follow up on everything Tyler Jerse did before his death."

"Sounds like your next best move." Fornell looks at the clock. "I take it you've got nothing for dessert?"

"Your wine is your dessert." He stares at the nearly empty glass. "Wine…"

"What?" He asks with a slight defensive tone. "They say a glass of this stuff a day is exactly what a man needs."

Gibbs smirks at his friend, but does not say anything. Taking another taste of his beer, he settles it solidly on his kitchen table. "I'll offer you another glass if you agree to something."

Fornell knits his eyebrows. "I hope it isn't a proposal of marriage."

He holds his grin for a bit more, but soon his face turns to a face of dead seriousness. "Tell me what you know about Parker."

Fornell taps one of the pages inside of the folder. "She's Jerse's partner, well, was." He shrugs. "If I knew you wanted to follow up on her I would have gotten you her file, too."

"No. I want to know what you know about her. Not what's on her record."

Fornell leans back in his chair. "I'm not sure I follow. I thought you two are working this case together."

"We are."

"…but…"

Gibbs shrugs. "I don't trust her."

"That doesn't sound very refreshing, but go on."

"She came to me with information about DiNozzo's disappearance, but it wasn't complete. I had to meet with Maggie Roberts myself, then question her daughter which Parker failed to do."

"Even if she did question her daughter as well you know you would have still wanted to question them."

"That's besides the point."

"Is it?" Fornell pauses a moment. "You're damn good at what you do, Jethro, but you hardly give other agents a chance. Especially agents from another agency."

"Whose side are you on?" Gibbs finally barks for the first time that night.

Fornell stares at him, but doesn't show much of a shock at Gibbs' outburst. "…I could leave…not tell you a thing about what I know about her…"

"Well damn it, Tobias, you told me to go on, so I'm going on."

"Fair enough." He shakes his empty glass. "Can I get some more wine before you continue?"

"You'll get wine when you start talking."

"Fair enough."

Gibbs stares at him for a minute to make sure that he has enough room to continue. When he is sure that he has enough room, he rests his elbows on the table and leans forward. "She opened up shop at NCIS, but hasn't done any better than the rest of us. Instead of her giving us something we can go on it's like she's waiting around for us to make the first move."

"You do realize that the point of having a team is to work together, don't you?"

"She's not a part of my team."

"Then there goes the case. There goes DiNozzo."

"I can't consider anyone a part of my team if I don't trust them, and I can't trust her." He scoffs. "Her partner ends up dead and instead of her trying to figure out why he was at that hotel in the first place, she's more focused on where DiNozzo could be!"

Fornell raises his eyebrows. "Former relationship?"

"Never happened." He skips a beat. "Never could happen."

Reaching for the bottle of wine, Gibbs begins to remove the cork. "Going to tell me what you know?"

Fornell nearly hits Gibbs in the face with the glass as he holds it out in front of him. "I'll talk, you pour."


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

As the Director takes note to how silent his office is, the door is forced open by a man with one hell of a lousy disposition. Rising from the chair behind his desk, Vance narrows his eyes at the unwelcome visitor.

"Agent Parker." Gibbs calls for her as if he has every right in the world to control her every move. "In."

She follows her instructions, but her expression screams with utter disgust. "And people wonder why you're not married." She mutters, but loud enough for him to hear.

Vance notices him flinch and feels the air inside of his office growing warmer by the minute. "Agent Gibbs, what's this about?"

"Why don't you ask her?" His attitude is vile.

Staring at him, Vance battles between turning his attention to the other Agent in the room and lecturing Gibbs on how to not be unprofessional. After a few seconds he decides against bothering with Gibbs, knowing that his slight headache will increase rapidly if he does.

"Agent Parker, mind telling me what this is about?"

"I don't mind at all, but I'm not exactly sure on why I was brought here." She feels Gibbs open his mouth, so she continues quickly. "I just spent the last twenty minutes having questions fired at me like I'm some sort of murder suspect." She tosses a look over her shoulder. "Am I here to investigate a case or am I here to be investigated?"

"To investigate. Of course." He shoots daggers at the silent Marine. "Gibbs."

Rolling his eyes, he sighs loudly. "Why don't you tell him about your partner."

"I don't have a partner anymore. He's dead." She shrugs. "What is it with you and this partner of mine? Why is he so important to you?"

He turns himself around and faces her though she keeps her side to him. "Are you even a real Agent?"

"Gibbs." Vance warns.

"Just hear me out, Leon." Gibbs orders, making Vance's blood pressure rise higher than it already is. Still looking at her, he continues. "Doesn't it bother you that one of your own was murdered?"

"Of course it bothers me, but there's nothing you or I can do to bring him back." She turns to face him. "You really know how to get on a person's last nerve."

"Agent Parker." Leon says easily.

"Why was he in that hotel?"

"I told you I don't know!" She hollers.

"You ought to know."

"Well, I don't. Just like you don't know where in the hell your Agent is."

"At least I knew he was on a vacation." Gibbs grasps for control of the spat.

"What's the good in knowing that when you didn't know where he was going?" She throws her hands up in the air. "It's pointless!"

"DAMN IT!" Gibbs' voice rattles the walls.

"GIBBS!" Vance yells this time, then lowers his voice a notch. "Agents…if anyone were to walk into my office at this very moment and see two professional adults acting like children, we're all going to have a problem. So I suggest the both of you take a deep breath, and calm down."

"With all due respect, Director, I really do not think this is the place for me to conduct an investigation." She forces herself to stifle her impulse to glare at Gibbs. "Perhaps it will be best if a request is made and granted so that NCIS can handle this matter."

"She wants to bail on us, but still work the case." Gibbs says immediately.

Sighing, she turns to look at him. "Damn if I do and damn if I don't, Gibbs. I'm here, but you fail to use me as one of your own. To you, I'm nothing." She pauses for a moment. "I'm sorry that there isn't enough time for you to try and teach me whatever lessons you've taught your agents, but that doesn't make it okay for you to ignore the fact that I am a trained professional in the field of law enforcement. I'm here to help, not to destroy."

The two men stand silent.

"I'm also a part of this case, whether you like it or not. I'm the one that brought you a lead. I deserve some kind of credit or some sort of respect for coming straight here, instead of hightailing it back to FBI Headquarters." She wait's a moment. "It's my partner who is dead."

"It's your partner who appears to be murdered by my agent."

"It's all just speculation."

"I don't like it." Gibbs confesses.

"It's doesn't matter." She inhales.

Vance takes a seat at his desk. Pulling a few papers out from a pile with one hand, he uses his other to pick up his pen. "The arrangement stays as is." Looking up, he takes in Gibbs fuming expression and Parker's unhappy expression. "What the both of you want is comfort, but that's not what this type of job offers, and if it does, it doesn't mean that with each and every case, with each and every new law enforcement officer you meet, you're going to have it easy." He puts his pen down to interlace his fingers. "Gibbs, you're an intimidating guy. You don't own the building, but you act like you do. You want to be King of the castle, and anyone who doesn't fit in properly around your domain is someone you can't trust. Tough." He turns his attention to Parker. "Agent Parker, rightfully so I hardly know you, but what I do know is that you're one of those bad pennies that always seems to turn up. At times you're too carefree or off in another world; day-dreaming. In the last several years you've slipped as both an agent and a partner, lacking the ability to resolve a case on your own and having gone through five partners in the past five years."

"One was transferred."

"The other four, dead." He narrows his eyes at her for a moment, they begins to shift his gaze between the two agents. "What we have here is a positive and a negative." Vance nearly smirks. "Laws of Attraction."

Gibbs shifts uncomfortably. "This isn't a joke, Leon. DiNozzo's still missing."

"I'm surprised you still know that of DiNozzo." He falls right back into his seriousness. "The more you two bicker, the further away DiNozzo gets. If this keeps up, he'll be lost forever." He tries to see the wheels turning in Gibbs head, but he can't quite see them. "You'll lose him, Gibbs."

* * *

><p>Inside the compartment, Tony watching as the sun begins to set outside. He can not say that he is at peace with where he is at the moment, but taking note to traveling in style and a familiarity with certain passengers has given him an unusual feeling of comfort. With this type of ease he is able to reflect on certain aspects of his life as well as the new one he has been living for a short while…<p>

* * *

><p>His work in Vermont had hardly felt like work. Somewhere deep down inside his gut he sometimes felt the guilt flare-up in an attempt to stop him dead in his tracks and realize what was happening, but even when it did, he was pushed further along by whomever was watching him from behind.<p>

The clothes he wore were accommodating not only to his sense of style, but to the bitter cold that clung to the air. Fancy indeed, but with an interior layer that made his attire warm and comfortable enough for him to fall asleep is, and at times he did.

When people addressed him, he would sit and listen. He still never knew their names except for the woman that occupied his mind more often each and everyday. There was something mysterious, yet pure about Ava Fontaine. Two characteristics he never found throughout his everyday travels or his standard one night stands. Her presence was both alarming and secure. When she appeared she held information that needed to be given to him in such a way that the other passengers on the train would not grow suspicious of their interactions. She was movie-picture beautiful and he was tall, dark, and handsome, so never were there any such thing as a single complication with their exchanges, and the men they were operated by knew this.

Although, when they said their goodbyes, Tony began to feel more and more complications. One complication right after the other started to develop somewhere inside of him. At times the natural desire to make progressions with their familiarity ached inside of him like a burning need,, but there were other feelings he knew weren't right to have. The kinds that would make him feel some form of guilt or the ones that would make him feel afraid and uncomfortable. It was the lack of knowledge about her previous life and the one she held now. He did not know who this woman really was, and through all of the excitements of desire, he felt as if what he did to Jeanne had finally found its way back to him. Now he was she, and he was the one being kept in the dark.

* * *

><p>His concentration breaks as he listens to the knocking on his door. Getting up, he turns the knob and pulls the door open.<p>

"Mr. DiNozzo."

It is the man who made arrangements with his tailor. Still nameless and still as bastard-like as ever. Taking a step back, Tony takes his hand off the knob and gives the man his full attention.

"Has Ava met with you?"

"Not since yesterday." Tony says.

"May I come in?" He asks, but begins to walk inside anyway.

"Sure. Just come right in." Tony's humor is still alive, though extremely low-key these days.

"How is your poker face?"

"Much like the same face I've had since being kidnapped." His tone dry and bothered.

The man grins while reaching for his cigarette case. Taking a cigarette out, he lights it and holds the case open for Tony. He makes a face and jerks his head in a 'no' manner. The man's grin widens, "…you continue to keep our company and you might just find that smoking becomes you."

"I doubt that since I didn't choose to keep your company in the first place."

"Always the practical man, Mr. DiNozzo."

"Someone's gotta be." He remarks gruffly.

Taking a seat he was not offered, the air in the train compartment begins to grow frigid like the world outside. Feeling the familiar, yet unnerving chill run down his spine, Tony watches the man closely.

"It'll be a few hours before this train makes a stop. I suggest you take a seat and try to enjoy the view."

"That's all I seem to do lately. That, and wonder where I'll be when the next disaster strikes." He stays standing; his shoulders tense.

"You are too worrisome, Mr. DiNozzo. Haven't you realized that not much disastrous things have happened since arriving in Vermont."

"Well, we're not in Vermont anymore."

"Exactly. Nothing happened there and nothing will happen where we are going."

"I don't trust you. Any of you."

The man lets his head fall back as a hearty chuckle escapes him. "What is all of this 'trust' business with you, Mr. DiNozzo? At one point you'll realize that your life consists of those you don't trust and only those, alone." He picks up the crystal ashtray and knocks a few of his cigarette ashes inside of it. "The sooner you realize the outside world doesn't exist anymore, the better off you'll be in the long run."

"Do they pay you to attempt brainwashing techniques on people?"

"No." His tone as serious as his face."…but you're different, Mr. DiNozzo."

"Oh yeah, how so?"

He forms a smirk. "…I won't tell you… no… it will be of more fun if I just toy with you whenever I get the chance."

"Whatever gets you off." Tony mutters.

The man skips a beat physically. The grin on his face still there as if he momentarily made of stone. Reaching inside his jacket pocket, he pulls out a small piece of paper that is folded. Opening it, he rereads the information and holds it out to Tony. "Speaking of getting off, when the train stops, you are to go to this address."

"Are you telling me I've earn enough free will to travel to a new location all by myself?"

"You won't be traveling alone." He takes a drag. "Ava will be joining you in the next hour or so." He clears his throat. "We're sure she has enough sense not try any funny business." Getting up, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out an object wrapped in a piece of cloth. "This is not a graduation piece, but it's a start in the right direction."

Grabbing a hold of Tony's hand, he jams it into the palm of his hand and takes the piece of cloth with him as he takes back his hand. Stiffening, the agent in him screams in a deafening tone.

"I can't use this." He states firmly. "I can't fire a gun that isn't my own." He flinches. "I won't fire a gun that isn't my own."

"Come now, Mr. DiNozzo."

"I WON'T!" He hollers this time, not caring if anyone on the outside of the compartment hears.

Jabbing whatever is left of the cigarette out in the ashtray, the man grows annoyed. "Now look here, Mr. DiNozzo. You will carry this gun and you will use it if the moment arises."

"I WON'T!" He hollers again.

The man makes it look like he is going to turn, but lifts his leg and bends his knee as he jerks it into Tony's abdomen. The gun falls from his hand and lays near his feet. Almost falling forward, he catches Tony's shoulders as his body begins to bend because of the pain. Shoving his shoulders against a wall in the compartment, he holds him up and waits for some of his senses to return.

"Quick hollering." His tone low and harsh.

"…I won't…." Tony says in a strained voice.

"Take a moment to remember what happens if you refuse anything we ask of you…" He waits until he sees Tony making connections from the look in his eyes. "What you are now is free. What you could be is jailed." He pulls him forward slightly, then pushes his shoulders back into the wall. "What you will be is dead. You got that?"

Tony refuses to answer and it only angers the man. With another lift of his leg, he rams Tony in the same spot. This time, he lets go of his shoulders and watches as Tony falls directly forward and onto the ground.

"Get yourself together." He mumbles before exiting the compartment.


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's Note: **Sorry for the delay in an update. Here's to hoping I get them in quicker.-**Geek**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 11<strong>

Gibbs looks angrily through his living room window. Standing there on the outside, Agent Parker is yelling for access.

"Get the hell off my front lawn, Parker!" He hollers; a bottle of bourbon in his hand.

"I NEED TO SPEAK TO YOU!" She nears the window and raises a hand as if she wants to beat her fist against it. "DAMN IT, GIBBS! LET ME IN!"

"Why should I?" He says in a tone that is barely audible to her. "You're nothing, but a liar."

She huffs. She can hear him mumbling, but she can not make out a single word he is saying. He turns his back on her and leaves his living room. Feeling herself tense with anger and annoyance, she brings her fist down hard, but slows it down as it nears his window. Pressing the outside of her fist against the glass, she takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. "Damn you, Gibbs…"

* * *

><p>Climbing the stairs with a few pieces of scrap metal in his hands, Gibbs opens his front door and heads to his garage. The only will he will remember to get rid of it is if he puts it where it is nearest to his car.<p>

Once there he deposit's the metal in a corner of his garage that is closest to the door. Standing tall he stretches a bit and makes a face when he feels a few stabs to his lower back. For a split second he registers his age, then shakes himself a little as if trying to pretend he never had such a registry.

"Tony told me you were like this."

He turns around sharply and notices her standing there. With a scowl on his face that is deepening every second, he takes three steps forward until he's practically in her face.

"Thought I told you to leave."

"Thought I told you I needed to speak to you."

"I don't want to hear shit you have to say, Parker. Not a single word of it." The muscles in his shoulders and neck ache with tension. "You're a loose canon and a liar."

"Well, you're a bastard." She bites back.

"Then get the hell off my lawn!"

"Have the decency to be fair, Gibbs." She tries to smooth over incredible roughness of their conversation.

"It's nearly been three months…" He stops because the bitterness is enough to make him lose control. "…three goddamn months since DiNozzo's gone missing…" He places his hands on his waist and shakes his head roughly while looking at his feet. "…do you know what that fucking feels like to me?" He inhales sharply. "Do you know what it's like to lose a partner?" He scoffs in a second. "Look who I'm talking to. You don't know what it's like to be a damn good agent, never-mind understanding what a partner means-"

"Don't belittle me." She interjects. "Don't you dare belittle me."

"Then don't insult me!" He barks; his blue eyes erupting in a mayhem of blues. "Don't come to me only to lie to me!"

"I NEVER LIED TO YOU!" She shouts.

He scoffs viciously, throwing his hands down from his waist and beginning to walk. Following behind him, she matches his every step knowing that when he reaches his front door she can push through it before he can lock her out. "If you would just give me a chance to explain myself-"

He grunts at her request and keeps his feet moving. "I can't tell you what I know if you won't stop and listen-"

"Stop? Listen? To you?" He stops dead in his tracks; turning around quickly. "Haven't you taken up enough of my time?"

Opening her mouth, she takes a breath instead of speaking first. Once she sees that he is there waiting, she opens her mouth slowly. "Haven't you taken up enough of my time?" She repeats his question; knitting her eyebrows a little. "For every five minutes I gave you, you gave me a minute. For every ten minutes I gave you, you gave me two. For every fifteen minutes, you gave me three." Taking a breath, she pauses for a second. "I've given my life to you and your team for the last three months. Tony isn't my agent or my partner, but it doesn't mean I don't respect him. It doesn't mean I don't want to find him. It doesn't mean that I'm acting as if he's dead and gone."

"You don't need to act. You just need to lie, and that you did pretty damn good."

"I never knew about Tyler and his shadiness. I never knew he could be so crooked. He never gave me a reason to suspect him."

"What you're telling me are just words."

"It's all I've got!" She huffs. "Damn it, Gibbs, I don't understand what makes this moment any different from others we have had. You never liked me and you never respected me. Now you're acting as if you were once very fond of me, and now because the truth about my partner has finally surfaced, you want to treat me as if I betrayed you-as if I let you down."

He stares at her. Her words running laps inside his head. "You're a nightmare." He pauses, then shrugs carelessly. "You're a damn nightmare." He pauses again. "I didn't know what to do with you. You came to me with information I did not have. A lead, our only lead. I couldn't trust you as far as I could throw you, but what was I going to do with you? If I let you go I risked you using your own resources and your agency to interfere with our investigation-"

"I told you I wouldn't have interfered."

"I didn't trust you." He skips a beat. "I still don't." He inhales sharply. "I might have had a sliver of hope for your truthfulness, but that sliver isn't there anymore."

Throwing her arms up, she stands defeated. "So I had a chance when I didn't even think I had a chance. It's no good to me now."

"Looks that way." He looks past her and spots her vehicle. "So how about getting along now?"

"He's still out there, Gibbs. Whether you want to admit it or not." She keeps at trying to break through him.

"You don't know that."

"I haven't got any proof to prove otherwise. We don't have his body laying in a morgue somewhere."

"Doesn't mean it isn't laying anywhere else."

They both sit there and ponder the thought…


End file.
